Dudley Does Right
by nevillesgirlfriend
Summary: How the Dursley's escape changes Dudley and his relationship with Harry. My version of where the Dursleys went and what happened to them. As always, I don't own any of the characters I did create a few, but they're not as good as JK's .
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

As his father pulled out of the drive and onto the street, Dudley turned to glance out the rear window. As he watched, the house he had spent his entire life in got smaller and smaller, until finally, his father, following the strange little wizard's directions, turned off Privet Drive, and his house disappeared entirely.

For possibly the first time in his life, Dudley experienced an astounding moment of introspection, wondering what would happen to them. If they would disappear just as their house had.

His life, as he had known it, was over. Actually, as he thought about it, his life had changed last summer when he and Harry had been attacked by those … things. Those Dementors. For the first time, he had been the victim, not the attacker. For the first time, he understood what Harry lived with everyday.

Because in that moment, he was Harry. Harry as a baby with the echo of his mother's dying scream ringing in his ears. Harry, who had silently taken their abuse everyday for ten years. Harry, struggling to learn who he really was. Watching his friend die. Watching his godfather die. Watching his mentor die. Waiting for the day when he would die.

In that moment, Dudley had seen himself through Harry's eyes and realized what a horrible person he had become. He couldn't go back and change the past, but in the last year, he had tried to be a better person. And yet, here he was, once again leaving Harry behind like he didn't matter.

Despite the evidence to the contrary, Dudley wasn't stupid. He had seen that Lord Voldemort guy through Harry's memories when that Dementor had attacked him. He had also paid attention when Harry explained to them why they had to leave. Lord Voldemort wanted Harry dead. No, he wanted Harry destroyed.

He had heard how those witches and wizards talked about Lord Voldemort on the few occasions over the years when they had spoken with his parents. He was so horrible that these people, who were much more experienced than Harry, were afraid to even speak his name.

Harry was barely seventeen. Your biggest concern at seventeen should be that pesky acne that won't go away or whether the girl you like likes you back. You shouldn't have to worry about a dark wizard hunting you down.

Flanked by his mother on one side, and the witch Harry had introduced as Hestia Jones, on the other, Dudley turned to the witch. "Ms. Jones?"

Vigilantly scanning their surroundings for threats, she spared him a glance, "Please call me Hestia."

"Hestia, then. What's going to happen to Harry? Will he be sent to a safe house, too?" Dudley's concern for his cousin was obvious and softened Hestia's opinion toward him. It was disgraceful the way these people had treated Harry Potter. The boy, however, seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and was at least concerned about Harry.

"As we explained earlier, in just a few more minutes, we will leave the car, and Dedalus and I will disapparate with you to a safe location. If everything works out according to plan, at the precise moment we disapparate, Harry Potter will leave your house with his guard, also en route to a safe location."

"Yes, but what then? Will he be hidden away until that Lord Vol…"

"DON'T SPEAK THAT NAME," Hestia shouted. Taking a calming breath, she continued, "I'm very sorry to have yelled at you, boy, but we do not speak his name. You may call him He Who Must Not Be Named. And as to your questions, I cannot answer that here. It isn't safe."

"One Minute!" a voice shrieked. Everyone in the car jumped at the interruption.

Studying the surroundings, Mr. Diggle directed his father to pull the car into the bordering park. Dudley had played in this park when he was younger. Actually not that long ago, he beat up another boy in this park. He barely recognized it in the humid oppression of the dark July night. It was eerie. Sinister.

"You want me to just abandon my car?!" his father blustered, his face mottling red with his outrage.

"I would think, sir," Mr. Diggle replied stiffly, "that your life would be much more valuable to you than you car."

Faced with such calm disdain, his father quickly lost his bluster.

As they disembarked from the car, Hestia stepped in between Dudley and his mother, as Mr. Diggle walked over to his father and grabbed his elbow. His father glanced at his arm, and Dudley could tell he was considering shaking off the other man's touch.

"Now," Hestia said as she took hold of Dudley and his mother in a similar manner, "when we disapparate, you will feel a slight tug. It is very important," she continued, leveling a stare at his father, "that you NOT pull away. Should you attempt to do so, you could lose a body part or two."

At that dire warning, Dudley's father immediately quieted.

"Five Seconds!" the disembodied voice shrieked again.

Both witch and wizard tightened their grips. "Three, two, …." Hestia turned on the spot, and Dudley felt as though he was being pulled through a straw.

The urge to jerk out of her grasp and escape the confinement was overwhelming, but Dudley forced himself to relax his body. He definitely liked all his body parts where they were, thank you very much. After what felt like an eternity, but in actuality was only seconds, they were standing in a dark, quiet garden behind a small cottage. His shaking legs giving out, Dudley landed on his bottom in a flower bed. He quickly dropped his head between his upraised knees, hoping not to vomit. The smell of the sweet mint he must have landed on helped settle his stomach.

After a few measured breaths, he felt immensely better, and surveyed his surroundings. Although it was dark out, the moon provided enough illumination to make out the garden surrounded by an iron fence. He was sitting in mulch and he could feel the evening dew seeping through his trousers. Great, now he was running for his life in wet trousers. His mother stood a few feet away. Her face was pasty and her eyes glassy, but she managed to keep her feet, grasping the delicate iron fence for support.

Mere moments later, his father and Mr. Diggle appeared. Unlike Dudley who had at least managed to land on his feet before sinking to the ground, Vernon Dursley landed on his backside, appearing to have been pushed away by Mr. Diggle.

"Of all the … I never…_these_ people…."

Ignoring his father's ranting, Mr. Diggle approached Hestia. "Now I know how Dung felt when he tried to apparate with those stolen cast iron cauldrons," he mumbled. "We must begin preparations for the next leg of the journey," he said more clearly to the group.

"Excuse me," Dudley interrupted, "but where are we?"

"This is my home," Hestia answered. "However, this is just a brief stop for us. You shall be continuing on to the next destination momentarily."

"What do you mean 'you'? Aren't you coming with us?" It was the first time his mother had spoken since they left the house. Dudley understood her concern. As strange as he found these people, he at least recognized the protection they offered. The idea of traveling on without them terrified him.

"Well, you have to come with us. You are supposed to protect us," his father stated with his never ending air of self-importance. "Figures you can't trust _these_ people to do the job they're given," he muttered.

Ignoring his father, Hestia replied to his mother, "No, we won't be continuing on with you. We must stay here. However, when you reach your destination, you will be met by other members of the Order. They will escort you to the safe house."

"Will Harry be meeting us there?" Dudley again attempted to find out what was going to happen to his cousin.

"Like you, Harry will travel to more than one location before arriving at his final destination. In order to protect Harry, only a few people know where he will actually end up, and we are not among them. I'm very sorry, but I cannot tell you where he will be. Now…"

"But…," Dudley interrupted her.

"No buts. Harry Potter is the heart of our cause. Just accept that his safety is the Order's top priority. Now, the watering can behind you is actually a portkey. In five minutes, it will activate. When that happens, you all must be touching it. You will experience a similar sensation to apparition, but it will be easier this time, as you know what to expect. Faster than you can blink, you'll be at your next stop."

"Just a minute," his father's brusque voice started again, "what about my job, Dudley's school? How long are we going to be gone? I have a very important job, you know, I can't just disappear!" His father was beginning to wear on Dudley's nerves. Did he not understand the danger they were in? Then he realized that no, his father did not understand. Unlike Dudley, he had never actually experienced the reality of dark magic. For Vernon, it was just an abstract idea. At least his mother seemed to comprehend that the dark wizard who had killed Harry's parents, and countless others, was now after Harry, and possibly them.

"Actually, sir, you can. Those things have already been taken care of. Kingsley has already arranged for you to have an extended leave of absence. After a few well placed charms, your superiors agreed that you were due a vacation." She did not add that they had, in fact, seemed quite pleased that he would be gone. "Dudley, we've contacted your school and explained that you have decided not to continue on with your education." For the first time since this nightmare had started, he allowed himself a little smile. No more school. "As far as the muggles know," she continued, "you will be traveling the Continent."

"It's time," Dedalus interjected. "Hurry now, you must take hold of the portkey."

"Crackpots," his father muttered, even as he lumbered toward the watering can. "What do they think is going to happen, we're going to fly away in a rusty old watering can? Hah!"

Dudley could see the skin around Hestia's eyes and mouth tightening with her frown. He could only imagine that at any moment, she was going to pull out her wand and turn his father into a toad or something.

"Dad," Dudley interrupted as he grabbed hold of the spout on the watering can, "we traveled to this garden in who knows where from the park down the street from the house in the blink of an eye. We've seen people appear in our fireplace. That professor guy who came to talk to you about Harry made stuff appear out of thin air. At this point, do you really doubt what they're telling you?!"

As he reached for the handle on the watering can, Vernon Dursley looked at his son. He had never actually heard this tone from Dudley before.

Dudley met his father's eyes. He didn't know what to make of the questions he saw there, but at the moment, he had more pressing concerns. Like, oh, the dark wizard tracking them down and killing them all.

Just as his mother reached for the smaller handle on the back of the watering can, it began to glow a muted blue. The metal warmed under his hand. As he felt himself spinning out of control, he heard Hestia murmur "Good luck."

Yet again, Dudley landed in a pile of cushy, moist vegetation. This time, he believed it was moss. He sincerely hoped that wherever they ended up, there would be clean clothes.

Turning his head, he saw that his parents had landed on either side of him. His father's landing being accompanied by a resounding "oomph."

"What's so wrong with a bloody car, I ask you." Dudley groaned as his father's complaining immediately started back up.

Dudley remained on his back, ignoring his father, hoping that this was all actually a bad dream and he would wake up any moment. When that didn't work, he opened his eyes. Wherever they were, it was dark here, too. The night sky, with its twinkling of bright stars, broke through the tall canopy of trees. Hmmm, must be in a forest this time.

"Vernon," his mother's quavery whisper broke through his mental meanderings. His father was still mumbling away about magic and modern modes of transportation. Dudley thought he heard grumblings about toadstools. "Vernon," she whispered again, her voice rising an octave, "there's someone in the trees."

"What?" His father turned to his mother, then looked in the direction her shaking finger pointed. Dudley sat up so quickly, he almost fell over again, turning to see what held their attention. Silence descended as they watched two dark figures emerge from behind the surrounding trees.

In a move Dudley had not known his father was capable of, Vernon Dursley placed himself in front of his wife and son. As the figures got closer, he could see they each held wands. When they were about three yards away, he heard each quietly mutter "lumos."

Suddenly, their small area filled with the light which was emitted from the tips of their wands. Dudley could see that it did indeed appear as if they were in a small clearing in a forest.

The taller of the two figures lowered her hood. Not a figure. A woman. A beautiful woman, with flowing blond hair. Her skin was so luminescent that Dudley was surprised she did not light up the clearing without the help of her wand. Dudley felt his mouth fall open. His father must have had the same reaction because his mother reached out to pinch his arm.

"You are ze Dursleys, non?" The shorter of the pair had posed the question, providing Dudley the impetus he needed to pull his gaze from the vision in front of him. He now looked at a short, plump, balding man. Despite the palpable tension in the clearing, the man had a very pleasant manner.

This time, his mother poked his father, rather harshly, in the arm. "Yes," he sputtered as he managed to look away from the vision. "Yes, we are. And who might you be, sir?"

Dudley sincerely hoped the answer to that question wasn't the wizard who's going to kill you.

"I am Auguste Delacour, but you must call me Gus. This is my wife, Appolline." Madame Delacour gave a graceful nod of her head. "Our daughter Fleur is marrying Bill Weasley," he said as if that explained everything.

Seeing three blank faces, he explained further, "Bill. Ron's older brother?" Still nothing. "You know ze Weasley's, n'est pas?"

"Of course we don't know any Weasleys!" his father blustered. "Some of your lot I suppose…" his father's voice trailed off. Dudley imagined that he was recalling the same thing that had just occurred to Dudley. The man who had appeared through the fireplace. The one who had nearly destroyed their parlor. "Wait, Weasley, did you say?"

By this time, his mother was pulling on his father's shirtsleeve. "The redheaded man. Remember. Harry spends a lot of time at their house," she reminded him.

Hearing the exchange, Gus nodded, as if that settled everything. "Bon. We must go. We cannot linger here. Our home is just through the forest here. You will be staying with us until is it safe for you to go home."

As he reached down to offer Dudley a hand up, Dudley couldn't stop himself from asking, "We're walking, right?"

Hearing the piteous note in his voice, Madame Delacour smiled. "Oui, we shall walk. It is not far." Dudley forced himself not to react to the melodious quality of her voice.

As everyone gained their feet, the Delacours started off through the trees. No one spoke for several minutes. "Where are we exactly?" his father huffed, struggling to keep up. Dudley guessed that right about now his father would have been more than happy for a magical mode of transporation.

"In just a moment," Gus replied, "you shall see the lights from our home. We have a small estate outside of Mont Saint-Aignan."

"F-france?" Dudley stuttered. "We're in France? But we were just in Hestia's garden, then moments later we're in France?" Ok, from their accents, they were obviously French, but Dudley had never imagined that could magically travel to France.

"Oui, dear boy. You are in France." Appolline's voice held a trace of a laugh in it. "I daresay that over the coming months, you will see all manner of things that you had never dreamt of."

Reaching the edge of the treeline, the Delacours stopped, holding out their arms, signaling the Dursleys to stop also. They slowly surveyed the surroundings. Dudley could only imagine that they were checking to make sure there were no unexpected visitors. Dudley could see the lights in the distance.

"D'accord," Gus murmured. "Let us hurry." And he rushed across the grass as quickly as his short legs could carry him. By this point, Dudley could hear his father wheezing behind him.

As they got closer, Dudley realized that his was no small estate. A square three story structure loomed in front of them. Their house on Privet Drive would have fit in a corner. It was clear that they were approaching the rear of the home.

Madame Delacour was the first to reach the iron fence that surrounded a large garden. Opening the gate, she ushered them all through. Leading the way through rosebushes with blooms of various colors, vines spiraling up trellises, and past what Dudley could only assume was an herb garden, she finally made her way to a door. "Welcome to our home. I hope you will be comfortable here."

The door opened up into a large country kitchen. At least, Dudley thought it was a kitchen. There was a huge fireplace taking up half of one wall, tall as it was wide, an old fashioned wood burning stove stood against another wall. At least from the look of the sink, they had running water, although it, too, was old fashioned. Where was the refrigerator, the microwave? The room was dominated by the long wooden trestle table sitting in the middle of the floor. Across from the entrance they had come through, was an opening he assumed led to the rest of the house. There also appeared to be a stairway in the corner.

He heard his mother, the Queen of Clean, emit a small moan as she surveyed the kitchen.

Madame Delacour must have heard it, too. "We know it is not what you are used to. However, electric devices do not work here. They are not compatible with magic. Why would we need them though."

Why, indeed, Dudley thought. How in the world were they supposed to stay here indefinitely? What would he do without television?

Completely overwhelmed and out of bluster, his father pulled a chair from the trestle table and sank into it, elbows in the table, his head falling into his hands. His mother sat beside him, a look of nervous panic on her face.

"Maman, Papa!" A small girl came flying into the room, her long blond hair trailing behind her. As she threw herself into her mother's waiting arms, Dudley noticed that she looked a great deal like her mother. In a few years, she too, would be a stunning beauty.

Turning the girl toward them, Madame Delacour introduced her. "This is our youngest daughter, Gabrielle." Gabrielle made a slight curtsy as she looked over their guests. When her gaze landed on Dudley, she ran over to him. Having no experience with little girls, Dudley was flabbergasted by her forthrightness.

"You are Harry's cousin, non? He saved my life. When I grow up, I am going to marry him." At the earnest look on her face, Dudley felt himself smiling. This was just surreal. He had been poofed into thin air, whirled across the Channel and half of France by a rusty watering can, and now this slip of a girl was announcing her intentions to marry his cousin. Suddenly he sobered, wondering is his cousin would even live to have that kind of opportunity.

"I hope you get the chance to," he replied, with all seriousness.

"Come," she tugged on his hand, "I shall show you to your room."

"Gabrielle," her mother interrupted, "pas maintenant. Joue en ton chambre, s'il te plait."

"Mais, Maman," she whined.

"Maintenant." Madam Delacour had not raised her voice, but it was obvious that she had not made a request.

After a last petulant look at her mother, Gabrielle slumped from the kitchen, dragging her feet.

"Now," Madame Delacour started, turning back to them, "you shall stay here with us until we hear it is safe for you to return home. We understand how difficult it must be for you to leave your home, and we would like for you to make yourselves at home here. If there is something you need, please let us know and we shall do our best to acquire it for you. We have very little experience with muggles, so this will be a learning experience for all of us. We have two house elves. You shall be introduced to them shortly." His mother started at that. She, like he, must be imagining what a house elf was. "They shall be instructed to follow your orders while you are here. Understand that a house elf is required to follow his or her master's order, so please do not abuse this trust. We will all do our best to speak English while you are here. The countryside is inhabited by many magical families, including the adjoining estate. You shall meet them over time. Dudley, there are several children around your age, so hopefully, you will not be so bored here.

"We shall be leaving to attend Fleur and Bill's wedding in a few days time. I regret that we must leave so soon after your arrival, but it could not be helped. We thought it would be better for everyone to bring you here immediately. While we are gone, additional members of the Order shall be here to watch over you."

While his father looked like he would protest, he was still too out of breath from their jaunt to do more than shake his head. His mother was still surveying the incredibly outdated kitchen with, what was now, mild shock and dismay. Dudley doubted she had even listened to a word Madame Delacour had said.

"D'accord. I am sure you are all very tired after your harrowing journey today. First we shall give you a brief tour of ze house so you may find us if you need something. Then I shall show you to your rooms. We have prepared rooms for you on ze zird floor to give you some privacy while you are here. However," she continued, eyeing his still slightly wheezing father, "should you wish to have rooms on zee second floor zat can be arranged."

So saying, she stood up and led the way out of the kitchen into a hallway illuminated by old fashioned wall sconces. Dudley and his parents obediently followed, sheer weariness overwhelming any questions or defiance. Gus trotted along behind them. On either side of the hallway, she pointed out various rooms, dining room, parlor, sitting room, morning room, music room, library. It seemed there was a room for everything. Dudley didn't even bother to look in them. Finally, they came to the base of the main staircase.

As they ascended, Dudley barely glanced at the portraits lining the wall. He would have who knew how long to explore the house in depth. His mother, however, in her typical nosey fashion, was perusing the Delacours antecedents.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Dudley plowed into his mother's back as she froze on the staircase. Gus stopped himself before running into Dudley. From the top of the stairs Madame Delacour looked down on them, surprise etched in her ethereal features.

His father, who had been laboriously climbing the stairs beside his mother, whirled toward her, looking for whatever would have drawn such a scream from her. "What in bloody hell is wrong now?!"

"It… it moved," his mother stuttered, one hand pointing at a painting of a man dressed in clothes that looked very old to Dudley. Maybe if he'd paid more attention in history, he might have an idea of when the man lived, as it was though, he didn't really care at this point.

"Petunia, it's a painting. The lighting is so poor in this blasted place, and we've had a long day." His father reasoned, looking at his mother.

"Eeeeeee. It moved again!"

"Bien sur!" Mr. Delacour said from behind him. "Zey are enchanted paintings. Zese are our ancestors. Zis gentleman here is Frederic Delacour. Frederic was almost burned as a witch in 1653. Little did zey know that zey had captured an actual wizard," Gus quipped.

"Bonjour, Frederic," Gus addressed the painting.

The man in the painting slid his gaze from Dudley's mother to Gus. More than a little startled, Dudley skittered away from the painting, almost catapulting himself down the stairs. His mother uttered another muffled little shriek, and his father, whose face had started to return to its normal mottled shade, turned purple in shock and fear.

"Auguste," the painting acknowledged in a haughty tenor. "Q'est-ce qui se passe?"

Dudley heard a muffled thump above him. It was his mother. She had finally reached her limit. The moving, talking painting had pushed her over the edge. Thankfully, when she had passed out, she had simply sunk to the stairs instead of plummeting down them.

Madame Delacour rushed down to her. Gus pushed past him to reach her. His father stood there immobile transfixed by the painting. Seemingly unable to process what he had seen and heard.

"My dear lady," Gus uttered worriedly, patting her hand as she recovered from her swoon.

While concerned about her guest, Madame Delacour was a little less accommodating. "You will doubtless see many zings during your tenure here which will come as a shock or surprise. However, nothing in zis house will harm you. We have been apprised of your … feelings with regards to magic. But in time, you will become accustomed to it."

"Ze paintings are simply paintings," Gus tried to reassure them. "Zey have simply been enchanted with the memories of ze subject to make them more life-like. After you have recovered from your journey, you should take ze time to speak with zem. Zere's a great deal to be learned from someone who lived in another time."

His father's "harrumph" sounded more like _like hell I'll talk to a painting_ to Dudley. His mother's indrawn breath conveyed the same. After recovering from the initial start, Dudley thought it would be quite interesting to talk to these people. At least it would give him _someone_ to talk to.

"I believe we should just show you to your rooms, so you may rest. Tomorrow, we shall show you ze rest of ze house," Madame Delaour suggested.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," his mother replied weakly.

Without further adieu, Dudley was shown to what would be his room for the unforeseeable future. Too exhausted to even remark upon the room itself, he thanked the Delacours, bade goodnight to his parents and collapsed face first onto the bed. Within moments, he fell into a restless sleep, plagued with dreams of the terrifying dark wizard with his reptilian features.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for taking so long to update. I was overwhelmed by the positive response for the first chapter, and I had hoped to update much sooner, but you know what they say about good intentions. Thank you to everyone who commented on my first chapter._

_For my British readers, I'm trying to use British slang, but as I'm an American, I don't really know how successful I've been. If I'm screwing it up, please let me know._

_As you know, I don't own the characters. Oh, if only…_

_And I'll apologize up front for my house elf names. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to think of names for French house elves?_

Ch. 2

Dudley was awakened by light scratching noises, as if his mother was putting away his laundry. "Go way, Mum," he mumbled into his pillow.

He lay there in that groggy state between sleep and wakefulness, pondering whether he really wanted to get up. After those strange dreams, he certainly didn't want to go back to sleep!

He burrowed his face into his pillow, preparing to heave himself out of bed and start his day. He really wasn't a morning person …. Wait a minute! The pillow in his hands was much too fluffy. And why was his room so bright?! He always drew the drapes before getting into bed.

The tension coiled in his shoulders, making them stiff. With his eyes screwed tightly shut, he slowly lifted his face from the pillow. "It was just a dream," he muttered to himself. "You're imagining things. This is your pillow, you idiot. When you open your eyes, you're just going to see that you forgot to close the drapes. No big deal."

Taking a deep breath, Dudley opened his eyes. Light streamed through the tall windows lining one wall of the room. A room that wasn't his! No piles of clothes, cd's or video games littered the carpet. Instead, the sunshine sparkled off a wood floor that had been polished to a shine. The room was quite large and filled with what had to be antique furniture, including the bed he currently occupied. He didn't really know anything about antiques, but he could tell it was old.

With a groan, he dropped his face back into the pillow.

"Master?" inquired a quiet, slightly squeaky voice.

His head turned toward the strange voice. "AAAHHHHHH!!!" he shrieked as he scrambled to the other side of the bed. He huddled in a ball at the headboard, a blanket clutched tightly to his chest (not very manly, he knew, but he was at the end of his tether), staring at the short, brown, wrinkled creature with bulbous eyes and large batlike ears, standing at the foot of his bed. Strangely, it appeared to be wearing a flowered bathsheet and was clasping a pile of clothes.

At his scream, the creature jumped away from the bed, hugging the clothes in its arms tightly to its scrawny chest. Its ears folded down, tremulously. It shook, while regarding him warily out of those huge eyes.

The bedroom door slammed open. Dudley jumped, turning his gaze to take in whatever new threat might be coming for him.

But instead of some fierce creature, the small blond girl (Gabrielle? the events of the evening were foggy) from last night came rushing into the room. Taking in the scene at a glance, she immediately rushed over to the quaking … creature, putting an arm securely around its shoulders. Pinning him with an accusatory glare, she growled, "What 'ave you done to Nici?"

Dudley was taken aback be her venom. Where was the cute little girl from last night? "Me?! I was just sleeping, and when I woke up, that … that thing was standing…"

"Nici iz _not_ a 'thing'!" Gabrielle retorted indignantly. "She and her mother, Belle, are our house elves."

Dudley's own indignation forced him out of his crouch and rising to his full height on the other side of the bed. "Well, _excuse me_. It's not like I've ever _seen_ a house elf before! It's not like I wasn't told that some uber evil wizard was coming to kill us, forced to leave my home for who knows how long, had my internal organs all jumbled about when I was somehow teleported to a strange garden _where I landed in muck_, only to be teleported again to a forest where I landed in muck AGAIN and some strangers tell me they're going to keep me safe from the big bad evil ALL IN ONE NIGHT!! And then when I wake up thinking it was all a bad dream, there's a strange …" Dudley glanced at the little shriveled creature who had stopped cowering and was now raptly listening to his rant, "person standing by my bed. I've dropped down the rabbit hole!"

Gabrielle, being an 11 year old girl who had perfected the art of whining, was unimpressed by Dudley's tirade and simply stood looking at him until he got a hold on himself. Nici's ears now stood at attention, her mouth slightly agape. She was staring at him with eyes so huge, they looked as if they would pop out of her head. She was still tightly grasping her bundle of clothes, and Dudley believed he recognized some of the articles.

"Nici was just putting away the young Master's clothes," the creature squeaked in its mousey voice. "They arrived last night. I'm very sorry I woke you up, sir."

"You don't need to apologize to him, Nici," Gabrielle interrupted. "You were just doing what you were supposed to." At her tone, Dudley's normally flaccid skin quickly mottled with his own indignation. Who was this little chit to treat him like this? Didn't she understand he wasn't used to this stuff?

Nici, however, had been told that while the guests were in residence, she was to serve them as she did the Delacours. "But Little Mistress…"

"No buts. You should go see if Belle needs help with breakfast."

"Yes, Mistress." With that, Nici placed the pile of clothing on a chair and quickly exited the room. After watching her leave, Gabrielle and Dudley faced each other again. "Breakfast will be served shortly," she haughtily informed him.

"Well, then," he replied with a sneer of his own, "you'll excuse me if I wish to wash up first." And so saying, he walked around the bed to scoop up the pile of clothing Nici had left in the chair and retreated through the door on the other side of the room. He sincerely hoped it led to an adjoining bath. Otherwise, he was going to be even more embarrassed.

In this instance, luck was on his side, and the door did indeed lead to a bathroom. As he shut the door firmly behind him, his bravado disappeared. It was all just too much. With his back against the door, he sank to the floor, propping his elbows on his knees and holding his weary head in his hands. The neatly folded clothes fell unheeded to the floor.

He didn't know anything about this world. How was he supposed to live here indefinitely?

He immediately felt guilty. Harry was who knows where, and here Dudley was safe (hopefully) in France. Harry's birthday was in a couple of days. Dudley hoped that wherever he might be, Harry got to celebrate his birthday. Dudley remembered that Dumbledore guy had said wizards reached their majority at seventeen, so Harry would be like, an adult. That was a big deal.

The funny thing was, Dudley had actually gotten Harry a birthday gift this year. With his own money. It was a book about Merlin. Dudley really didn't know what to get a wizard for his birthday, but he figured getting a wizard a book about a _wizard_ was a pretty good idea, right? He'd had to hide it from his parents of course. As far as he knew, it was still at the back of the shelf in his wardrobe. He probably should have given it to Harry, but in all the excitement, he'd forgotten.

Thinking about things like birthdays and presents had calmed him somewhat, and Dudley lifted his head to glance around the bathroom. It was a functional bathroom, nothing special. He noticed the lack of electrical outlets, and remembered Madame Delacour's comment about magic and electricity. He stifled a chuckle at the thought of his mother styling her hair without ten different appliances.

Climbing to his feet, he took a deep breath. He would just have to make the most of the situation. Ever since the dementor attack, he had wanted to learn more about Harry's world, but hadn't really known how to go about it. His mother probably knew more than she let on, but he certainly couldn't ask her. His father would think he was completely mad if he ever found out.

Yet here, he was surrounded by magic. He was bound to learn about it, right? And those portraits on the walls, he could probably learn loads from them.

Feeling a little better, Dudley took a quick shower. Looking through the pile of clothes on the floor, he was relieved to see that he had everything he needed and wouldn't have to put his dirty clothes back on. Although it was a little strange knowing that some unknown person had packed his pants.

He donned his fresh clothes, wondering where to put his soiled things. Refusing to dwell on it, he decided to leave them on the floor. He'd simply ask his hostess about it later.

Exiting the bathroom, he was glad to see that Gabrielle had not waited for him. Suddenly, his stomach growled, reminding him that breakfast was waiting. He hoped he could find his way back to the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I realize that the conversation between Mme. Delacour and Gabrielle would probably be in French, however, for the sake of the story, they're speaking in English even when the Dursleys are not present. Also, trying to maintain the spelling Ms. Rowling used to characterize the French accent is incredibly difficult, so for my own sanity, I'm not going to try anymore._

_Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed the story. _

Ch. 3:

Dudley determinedly stepped into the hallway outside his temporary quarters. However, he began to wonder what other surprises he would have today, and his bravado vanished.

Glancing around, he headed in the direction he believed led to the stairs. He remembered that the first floor had a central hallway running the length of the floor, with the kitchen at the rear. If he could just find the stairs, he would be okay.

After only a short distance, he spied the banister. Ahh … stairs. Stairs with moving portraits. Stairs with talking, moving portraits. Dudley paused. Sure, only moments ago, he had been thinking about all the things he could probably learn from those portraits, but that was really just an abstract idea. As in, at some point in the future. After he was a little more acclimated to his surroundings. He wasn't ready to have a conversation _now_.

Okay, easy enough. He would just avoid eye contact for now. Reaching the stairs, Dudley started his descent, sticking close the banister and keeping his eyes on his feet. However, he couldn't resist stealing a glance at the portraits from the corner of his eye.

That's when he heard the snigger. Stopping in mid-step, he turned to look at the portrait who had laughed at him. Enchanted painting or not, Dudley did not like to be laughed at. At Dudley's glare, the young man in the portrait gave up his attempts to stifle his guffaws.

Dudley glanced down at the small brass name plate. Etienne Delacour. He appeared to be around Dudley's age, but he was dressed like a pansy.

"Oh, leave off, Etienne." Dudley was startled at the stern reprimand delivered in such a melodic voice, and his gaze shifted to find its source. A few stairs above him hung a portrait of a woman wearing a huge ball gown. She was frowning down at Etienne's portrait. She had the same ethereal beauty as Madame Delacour.

"Come on Minnie. Did you see the way he was clinging to the banister." If Etienne had been a real person, Dudley would have punched him in the nose.

"Non. He is a guest in our home, Etienne, and you shall treat him accordingly." Her prissy command quieted Etienne's mocking. Casting a glare at Etienne, and a small smile to Minnie, Dudley hurried to the bottom of the stairs.

As he headed toward the rear of the manor, he could hear voices from the kitchen. Torn as to whether he should enter or go back and give them time to finish their conversation, Dudley stood frozen outside the entrance to the kitchen.

"But he was being mean to Nici," Gabrielle whined.

"No, Little Mistress…," the squeaky voiced house elf attempted to interrupt.

"Enough," Madame Delacour said in a low tone that was nevertheless meant to be obeyed. "Gabrielle, Nici has already explained that Dudley was startled by her presence in his room. I do not understand. You were so excited to meet him last night, and yet this morning, you come running in here to tell tales. He has been here less than one day. You know that he is not familiar with our world. It will take time for him to adjust. You should be helping him, not making things more difficult."

"I am sorry, Maman," Gabrielle started to apologize.

"It is not I to whom you owe an apology. I am very disappointed in you. We will be leaving in a short time, and I had hoped that the Dursleys would at least be comfortable here before that time. After speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley this morning, I do not believe they will ever be comfortable here. However, it seemed last evening that Dudley was less disdainful of our world. Now…"

"My dear boy," Gus's boisterous voice interrupted Madame Delacours' stern one, "how did you sleep last night? Feeling better today? Things always look better in the morning." Clasping Dudley's shoulder, Gus led him into the kitchen and into a chair at the long table. A mulish expression settled over Gabrielle's features as she slid into her own seat.

If Madame Delacour was surprised by his sudden presence, she hid it well. "Good morning, Dudley. I am very sorry about what happened this morning."

"What happened this morning?" Gus inquired from behind a newspaper. It was in French, so Dudley had no idea what it said, but the pictures on the front page moved just like the portraits. It was a little disconcerting.

"It was just a misunderstanding, sir. I woke up a little disoriented, and…," Dudley hesitated. Nici was standing in front of the huge hearth stirring something in what appeared to be a cauldron, and he didn't want to make what happened this morning sound like her fault.

Madame Delacour came to his rescue. "Dudley's belongings arrived early this morning, and I instructed Nici to put them in his room. Dudley awoke while she was there, and they gave each other quite a fright." Dudley could feel his cheeks turning red, damn his fair complexion.

"Now, Dudley," Madame Delacour continued, "we know this is a difficult transition for you, so we wanted to have a proper English breakfast for your first morning here." The table already held platters of bacon, sausages, eggs, tomatoes and bread. "Your parents have decided to take breakfast in their rooms this morning." Her mouth tightened a bit after making this statement. Dudley could only imagine what his father had had to say after having a full night to stew in his indignation.

In his peripheral vision, Dudley could see Nici cautiously approaching his seat at the table. She carried a small wooden bowl in her hands. She inched her way to his side to place the bowl on the table, all the while, casting him wary glances out of the corner of her eye. Dudley felt bad about scaring her this morning. Granted, he had been startled, too, but now that the shock had worn off, she was kind of cute. With her big ears, bulging eyes, wrinkly skin and tufts of hair, she reminded him of those dogs that were so ugly, they were cute. What were they called … oh yeah, Chinese Cresteds.

"Look," he mumbled to her in a low voice, "I'm sorry about scaring you this morning. It was a rough night, and I wasn't really expecting to see … anyone in my room."

After his mumbled apology, he glanced down at her. Little did he know he had paid her a great honor by apologizing to her. She had placed the bowl on the table, and was clasping her small hands to her bony chest. She gifted him with a hesitant smile. Dudley had to stifle a grin at the sight of her crooked little teeth.

"Mistress?" Dudley turned at the new voice in the kitchen.

"Ah, Belle," Madame Delacour said to the little creature that looked much like Nici, except … wrinklier, "come meet Dudley. Dudley, this is Belle, Nici's mother."

"Yes, Master. A pleasure to meet you. I am honored to assist you in whatever you may need." The little house elf looked worried, and Dudley had to wonder if she had heard about the incident this morning and was now afraid of him, also. Great. "Umm, Mistress?"

Madame Delacour finally seemed to notice the little house elf's tension. "What is it, Belle?"

"The abovestairs guests are, ummm, quite …," Belle said in a low voice, meant only for her mistress's ears, yet clearly audible to the rest of the room's occupants. She was obviously having trouble voicing her concerns, "…they are very … unhappy…."

Madame Delacour's lips tightened again, and a shadow clouded her eyes. "Do not concern yourself, Belle. We shall speak about them later." The little house elf was not relieved at her mistress's words, and Dudley wondered what his parents had done or said.

He was really quite ashamed. Ironic, really. Prior to a year ago, he had never really felt ashamed, yet since the dementor attack, he experienced the emotion quite a bit.

Staring down at the bowl of porridge Nici had placed in front of him, he again mumbled his apologies, except this time to the room at large, "I'm sorry. You should probably understand that it's quite likely that my parents will never … accept being here. Umm, I don't really know how this is going to work."

"Dudley, you are not responsible for your parents. We understood before you came here that there would be some," she searched for the word, "challenges. And I have already spoken to your parents this morning, so I know their feelings on the matter. We must all make the best of the situation. I believe your parents way to do that is to stay sequestered in their rooms, at least for the time being. After breakfast, I will show you the rest of the manor, including where you can find your parents, should you wish to see them." Dudley didn't miss the inflection in her voice, as if she didn't understand why anyone _would_ wish to see them. "Now, you have only been here a short time, but I am sure you already have some questions. We will always be more than happy to answer them."

"Well," Dudley hesitated, "it's all a little much right now, but, umm, maybe you have some books or something, so I could learn a little more about your …world."

"Bien sur." Madame Delacour looked quite pleased. "Before we finish our tour, we shall visit the library and find some books for you."

By this time, the kitchen's other occupants had returned to their various tasks. The house elves were straightening the kitchen, Gus was still reading his paper, and Gabrielle was staring thoughtfully at her porridge. She did aim a considering glance at Dudley.

"Dudley, as I have already explained to your parents, we must leave in two days time for Bill and Fleur's wedding. We shall be gone for a few days. However, as I said last night, while we are gone, there will other Order members here to protect you. In addition, the house elves possess strong magic. They have been ordered to protect you, although I doubt you shall be in any danger here."

"I do have a question," Dudley interrupted. "What exactly is this Order?"

Madame Delacour released a weary sigh, "Many years ago, when He Who Must Not Be Named began his reign of terror, Albus Dumbledore formed a group called The Order of the Phoenix. The Order was composed of witches and wizards who were determined to stop He Who Must Not Be Named. After he disappeared, the members of the Order went on with their lives, but they were ever on guard, awaiting his return. Upon his resurrection a few years ago, the Order began secretly meeting and recruiting among the new generation of witches and wizards. We, of course, were not part of this fight, as He Who Must Not Be Named's activities were focused in England. However, now the Weasley's are our family, and we shall do whatever it takes to help them."

"Well, why did this guy disappear before? Why is he so bad? And what does any of this have to do with Harry?"

By this time, Gus had set aside his paper, and joined the conversation, his typical jovial nature subdued. "Well, my dear boy, He Who Must Not Be Named believes that only witches and wizards of pure blood should be allowed to practice magic, and those who are not of pure blood should be weeded out in order to keep the bloodlines pure. He was attempting to woo powerful witches and wizards over to his side. If they refused, he killed them.

"Harry's parents refused him, and in retaliation, he murdered them. He Who Must Not Be Named tried to murder Harry, but his curse rebounded and hit him instead. Many thought he had died that night. That is how Harry came to bear the scar on his forehead. He is the only person known to have survived a killing curse. He became known as The Boy Who Lived. Now, we do not understand why, I'm not sure anyone does, but Harry is integral to defeating He Who Must Not Be Named, so you can imagine the danger he is in."

All this new found knowledge did not make Dudley feel any better about the situation. In fact, his worry for his cousin doubled, and the breakfast he had managed to eat threatened to come back up. "But he's protected, right?"

After hearing the tales of Harry's relationship with his blood relatives, Madame Delacour was touched by Dudley's concern, and rushed to reassure him. "Every precaution has been taken to protect Harry. You must trust in the Order to do what is best. Harry is part of their family, and they will do everything they can to keep him safe."

"Okay," Dudley said, sounding less than convinced.

"As I was saying, we do not want you to feel like a prisoner here, but for the time being, I think it best that you stay in the house or gardens unless accompanied. Just until you are more familiar with our world and the area. This area was settled by many wizarding families, and there are many young people around your age. After we return from the wedding, we would love to introduce you to some of them." Dudley just nodded, still trying to digest everything.

"Now," she continued, "if you are finished with your breakfast, we shall show you around. I believe we shall start with the gardens. Gabrielle, would you like to join us?"

Madame Delacour rose and glided toward the door through which they had entered the previous night. Gabrielle scooted her chair back from the table and trotted up to her mother. Dudley stood and glanced at Gus, who waived him on, promising to join them later.

As Dudley followed the women into the garden, the warm sun beat down upon his head, casting a halo off his blond hair. Looking around him, he realized the gardens were much more vast than he had realized. Of course, last night he'd been a little more interested in getting to safety than exploring the local flora. He followed Madame Delacour and Gabrielle along the garden paths, while Madame Delacour explained the layout of the gardens.

"Ack!!" Dudley yelled as a slow crawling vine inched its way toward him. Madame Delacour spun around, prepared to confront the threat. Spying the wandering vine, she relaxed. Gabrielle quickly stifled a giggle.

"Most of the plants in our gardens are magical plants. While they are not what you are used to, none of them will hurt you." Then her voice took on a musing tone, "Unless they feel threatened, of course. You must never attempt to prune or take cuttings from any of the plants. And do not eat any of the plants. When we have more time, I am more than happy to teach you more about them should you wish to learn."

Moving along, she led him past shaded alcoves containing stone benches, rose covered trellises, beautiful bowers, and sparkling koi ponds. Even a small greenhouse. And everywhere he looked he was overwhelmed by the lush greenery, sporting blooms in colors he had never seen before.

Aside from her amusement at his expense, Gabrielle had been remarkably quiet, but he would occasionally see her casting those appraising glances his way. As if he was a puzzle.

In what seemed like no time at all, but had actually been quite a while, they arrived back at the door to the kitchen. "Alright, Dudley, before we continue upstairs, let us stop by the library and pick out some books for you, shall we?"

Dudley had never really been into books, but even he had been impressed by the massive collection he had glimpsed last night. And he was eager to learn about this whole magic thing. What did they say – "Knowledge is power?" Maybe when he knew more, he would feel more in control.

"Please," Dudley replied, following her from the kitchen. As they walked through the hall to the library, he again glanced through the rooms they had pointed out last night. Madame Delacour noticed him peeking left and right.

"You are free to wander through any of the rooms down here," she said as she entered the library. "Ah, Gus, there you are." Gus was seated behind a massive desk in the library, reading over … was that parchment? Seriously? He'd only ever seen parchment in museums.

"An owl arrived while you were touring the gardens," Gus replied distractedly, his gaze still on the letter in front of him. Glancing up, he caught Madame Delacour's pained expression. Gabrielle's panicked gaze shot back and forth between her parents, "She is fine," he hurried to assure them. "There was a bit of trouble when Harry left Privet Drive, but everyone made it to their destinations safely. Everyone except Alastor Moody. I'm afraid he didn't make it." His usual buoyancy gone, Gus again frowned at the parchment. Madame Delacour's chin trembled before she recovered her poise.

Dudley gained another insight into their reality in that moment. There was indeed a war going on in this world. And while they were saddened by this man's death, they accepted it with a weary resignation, knowing that it would not be the last.

The heavy weight of worry again settled on Dudley's chest. He didn't fully understand what was going on, but it was bad. People were _dying_.

"Dudley," Gus addressed him, "Harry made it safely to the Weasley's. There are several layers of protection surrounding their property to ensure that he remains safe. We shall see him in a few days time when we travel there for the wedding."

"Thanks," Dudley mumbled.

"Well, boy, shall we find some books?" In an attempt to lighten the mood, Gus set aside the parchment and rounded the desk. Walking first to Madame Delacour, he took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Hmmm, where shall we start? I think Bathilda Baghot's _A History of Magic_, would be an excellent idea. You know, Harry would have actually studied this text in school. Let's see … _Modern Magical History_… _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_, you might find that interesting, ah, _Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do With Them Now You've Wised Up_, that should give you an idea of what it's like to be a young wizard coming into his powers."

Standing next to Madame Delacour, Dudley watched as Gus plucked books from the shelves. "Madame Delacour?" he murmured.

"Please, you must call me Appolline."

Dudley really couldn't imagine calling the regal Madame Delacour by her given name, but … okay. "Umm, Appolline? Those books are in French. I can't read French."

"Do not concern yourself, Dudley." She patted his shoulder. "I shall place a small charm on the books so that they appear in English for you."

Dudley couldn't help it, he stared at her dubiously. Then he checked himself. He _had_ been transported here by holding onto a watering can after all. Was he really surprised that they could _charm_ a book?!

"We shall leave the books here while you explore the rest of the house, and one of the house elves shall take them to your room for you," she continued. Turning, she addressed Gabrielle, "Gabrielle, perhaps you would like to take Dudley around." It wasn't a question. She gave her daughter a very meaningful look.

Gabrielle didn't look too pleased with the notion, but she headed toward the door, expecting that Dudley would follow. When they reached the foot of the stairs, Dudley stopped her.

"Look, I think this morning was just a big misunderstanding. It has to be weird for you to have strangers in your house for who knows how long. And it's definitely weird for me being here. I don't really understand all this stuff, and it's going to take a lot of getting used to." He couldn't believe he was trying to explain himself to this little slip of a girl. A year ago, he would have just bullied her into submission, but a lot had changed.

"Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we could … you know, start over?" At her silence, Dudley expelled a frustrated breath. He started for the stairs. He would just wait in his room for the books to arrive. He had already seen enough of the house.

"The family rooms are on the second floor. There are also some guest rooms, and Maman has a small parlor," she said as his foot hit the first step. "As you know, there are some guest chambers on the third floor. There is also a nursery on the third floor, and various other small rooms. The house elves have quarters in the attic." At this, she paused. "I'm sorry," she rushed out, sounding completely unapologetic.

"No worries," Dudley replied, his amusement clearly evident in his voice. But now, she could tell her mother she had apologized. "Let's just forget about it."

By this time, they had reached the second floor landing. Gabrielle wandered down the hall ahead of him, pointing out rooms. Eventually, they made it back to the stairs and headed up to the third floor. They passed the room he had been given, and as they wandered down the hall, Dudley could hear the faint hum of voices. As they continued, the hum grew louder, and Dudley recognized his parents' furious voices.

Gabrielle gave him a look that conveyed both her disdain for his parents and her pity for him. Dudley could feel his face heating from his blush.

"I'm sorry. I don't really understand why they hate magic so much, but they do…," Dudley's voice trailed off, and he offered a shrug of his big shoulders.

"As Maman said, you are not responsible for your parents."

"Well, I should probably talk to them.," his tone conveying that he would rather do anything else.

"I shall leave you to it, then." And with that, she started off in the direction from which they had come. Before she disappeared, she glanced over her shoulder to see Dudley standing in front of the door to his parents' suite. She offered him a small smile before departing.

Dudley braced himself for the onslaught and knocked on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Again, thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Your reviews have given me some really good ideas. I know many of you are anxiously awaiting Dudley's confrontation with his parents. I should explain that I do not really outline my stories. I start with an idea, and let the story unfold in my head while I'm writing. This chapter actually took a very unexpected turn. I hope you're not disappointed._

Ch. 4

Dudley stood in the hall outside his parents' rooms, watching until Gabrielle disappeared. His parents' muffled argument echoed in his ears.

Finally, taking a deep breath for courage, he knocked on the door. Silence. Dudley could imagine his parents standing frozen on the other side of the door, worried that someone had been witness to a crack in the perfect, normal family façade that they had so tediously constructed.

The door swung open, Dudley's red-faced father standing in the open portal, ready to no doubt blast another poor house elf … or their hosts. Seeing Dudley, his face lost its bluster.

"Diddy-kins!" his mother squealed in relief, pushing past his father's not-so-inconsequential bulk to envelope Dudley in a suffocating embrace. Those vines in the garden had nothing on his mum.

"Diddy-kins, you're okay." She finally released his neck and pulled him into the room. His father shut the door with a little more force than was necessary behind them.

"Of course, I'm okay, Mum. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," his father huffed, "you never know what _these_ people might do. We haven't seen you since they ushered us into these rooms last night. And _that woman_! In here this morning, trying to tell us how things were going to run now we were here. The nerve, I tell you! Then they send that … that _filthy creature_ up with our breakfast!" A quick glance at the empty tray showed Dudley that their concern over Belle's appearance certainly had not stopped them from devouring the food she had delivered.

"Dad, _these_ _people_ have been nothing but nice to us." The shock that Dudley would be defending these people stopped Vernon cold. "They don't have to help us, you know. They could have just left us to that evil wizard guy. Instead, they're protecting us." He added as an afterthought, "And Belle is not a creature. She's a house elf." The irony that he was repeating Gabrielle's words was not lost on him.

"Oh, Diddledums, that's so sweet. You're such a good boy. But you don't know what these people are like." His father nodded in total agreement, his three chins wobbling.

"Really, Mum? And you do?" Petunia flinched at the caustic note in his voice. "What are they like then?"

"Dudley, what's gotten into your boy?!" his father demanded, clearly confused at Dudley's outburst.

"I don't know, Dad. Maybe it's the fact that there's an evil wizard who wants to KILL us. An evil wizard who's already tried to kill Harry, and now wants to finish the job. AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE!" His mother flinched; his father's face turned an alarming shade of fuchsia.

His parents were at a total loss. For seventeen years, their lives had revolved around making Dudley happy, but this was not the Dudley they knew, and they didn't understand how to make the new Dudley happy.

Seeing the abject confusion on his parents' faces, Dudley forced himself calm down. "Why do you hate magic so much?" he asked wearily.

"Wha … excu … What?" his father stuttered. "What do you mean why do we hate magic? It's not normal, Dudley. You know that. Have you so easily forgotten the pigtail? Or the snake Harry set on you? What about Aunt Marge, hmmm? I tell you, you've been acting strangely since that boy did whatever it was he did to you last summer. You just haven't been right since."

"I've tried to tell you," Dudley interrupted, his temper starting to get the better of him again, "Harry didn't do _anything_ to me. He _saved_ me."

"And why did you need saving, hmmm? Because you were with him, that's why! That boy is trouble. That whole family was trouble!" His father was really getting into his tirade now. "Messing with things they shouldn't have messed with. If you ask me, they got what was coming to them!"

"No!" At his mother's horrified gasp, Vernon and Dudley turned to look at her. Her face ashen, she stared at Vernon, an emotion Dudley could not identify lurking in eyes made shiny with unshed tears. Never taking her wounded gaze from her husband, Petunia lowered herself to the settee, as if her legs would no longer support her.

Knowing he had said something unforgivable, Vernon rushed to his wife's side. Grasping her hand, he rushed to make amends in some way. "Petunia … I … I," he stalled. He knew there was nothing he could say in the face of that incredible hurt.

Being an only child, Dudley couldn't understand the bond between siblings. He didn't know that, even though his mother had forsaken her sister long ago, there was a part of her that yearned for her little sister. The little girl who used to be her constant companion, who looked up to her. He didn't know that fearing Lily would abandon her, Petunia struck out first, wanting to hurt Lily the way she hurt.

He didn't know that every time she looked into Harry's eyes, she saw her sister, making her hate herself even more for what she had done. It was easier for her to scorn Harry and magic than to deal with her self-inflicted pain. His mother had hidden her grief behind a mask of derision for the world in which her sister had chosen to live.

Dudley could see her pain now, though he didn't understand it. She had never defended her sister or her husband before when Vernon had made caustic comments about them. Vernon had crossed a line this time, though. With a few careless, callous words his father had ripped open an old wound.

Unable to process this new, vulnerable Petunia, Dudley made his way to the door. "I want to learn more about … magic … while we're here," he said quietly, as he reached for the doorknob. "The Delacours are going to help me. They've given me some books and …stuff." No response from his parents. Not knowing what else to say, Dudley let himself out of the room. "Ummm… I'll see you at dinner, then."

Closing the door with a soft click behind him, he released a tense breath. What had just happened? Would anything ever make sense again?!

Lost in thought, Dudley trudged back to his room. In his absence, the chair had been moved over by the window, joined by a small table, upon which were stacked the books Gus had chosen earlier.

Settling into the comfort of the cushy chair, Dudley plucked a book off the top of the stack.

_A History of Magic_ by _Bathilda Baghsot_…


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you all for being so patient. I won't bore you with excuses for my delay in posting. But thanks again for sticking with me._

Ch. 5

_Centuries ago, witches and wizards lived openly, but quietly among muggles, privately practicing magic. They were respected members of their communities, often acting as healers or seers._

_But dark times befell the world. Disease ran rampant. Lands went fallow. War was a common way of life. Muggles struggled to survive. Witches and wizards attempted to help, but sickness and suffering were much too prevalent. _

_In those bleak times, muggles began to look at witches and wizards with distrust. That distrust turned to fear. Seizing an opportunity to increase their own power, muggle leaders fed this fear, blaming the witches and wizards for the world's troubles. _

_We were hunted. Persecuted. Knowing that we could no longer live among muggles who could not truly understand magic, witches and wizards began to band together to form their own villages and communities. _

_From these villages and communities, our world grew, and, in time, magic became nothing but a fairytale…_

Never having been much of a reader, Dudley was surprised when he became so easily engrossed in the book he had picked up. But he'd never read anything like this before!

Not only was magic real, but ghosts and ghouls and goblins and giants were real, too! And _DRAGONS_!! He wondered if Harry had ever seen a dragon. And how did they all remain hidden? Ghosts and stuff, sure. But how could people not know that there were giants and dragons roaming around?!

Dudley's musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Before he could bade the caller to enter, the door swung open to reveal Gabrielle. She was accompanied by Nici, bearing a large silver tray that seemed to large for her small body.

Fearing the little elf would topple over with the weight of the tray, Dudley dropped the book to the table and hurried over to take the tray. When Nici realized his intent, she pulled the tray out of his reach.

"Nici, let me take that tray for you."

Her little face filled with appalled incredulity, she stuttered, "N-no, Master." Then her features froze in horror as she realized she had denied him.

Sensing the little elf's dilemma, Gabrielle lightly patted her little shoulder. "It's alright, Nici. Just place the tray on the table."

Dudley stepped aside with a little sigh. He just couldn't seem to win. This morning, he was rude. This afternoon, he tried to be nice, and that didn't work either. In fact, the little elf had seemed more upset at his offer of help than she had been this morning. At least this time, Gabrielle wasn't growling at him like a lioness protecting her cub.

Another sigh escaped.

"The house elves live to serve," Gabrielle tried to explain. "If you offer to help them, they think it's because they've done something wrong." She released her own little sigh. "Nici and Belle are part of our family, but their self worth is tied in with serving their masters. Many house elves live horrible lives with masters who abuse them."

Dudley was appalled that someone would abuse someone who only wanted to make you happy. Plus, they were such cute little things with their big buggy eyes and bat ears.

Then he remembered the little kids he used to bully. Yep, he was a hypocrite. But that was the old Dudley, he reminded himself. He was the new Dudley. The Dudley who understood that his actions affected others in ways he had never before considered.

You can't undo the past, he told himself. You can just try to make amends and be a better person in the future. And he was certainly trying.

Nodding at Gabrielle, he wandered over the tray Nici had placed on the table beside the stack of books. Bread, cheese, fruit, salad, chicken, roast beef. Dudley's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. He'd been so worried about seeing his parents earlier that he hadn't really eaten much of the huge breakfast Madame Delacour had prepared.

Giggling, Gabrielle joined him. "Maman and Papa are preparing for our trip, so Maman had a tray prepared for you. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Please do," Dudley responded smoothly.

"Nici," she turned to the small elf, "we'll need another chair, please."

Dudley opened his mouth to object to the elf moving such a large burden, yet before he could utter a sound, Nici snapped her fingers, and a chair appeared across the table from the one Dudley had occupied.

He was pretty sure his chin hit his chest. "Umm … wha-… hmmm," he stuttered, when he was once again able to communicate.

"Maman told you that the house elves possess great magic," Gabrielle stated nonchalantly, as she sat in the magic chair. She filled her plate with various offerings and settled back to enjoy her meal.

While Dudley filled his own plate, she surveyed the stack of books on the table. "What are you reading?"

"The History of Magic. I just can't believe that all those things are real. Even after living with Harry all these years. It's amazing." Getting caught up in his excitement, Dudley took a quick bite of the bread he'd been waving around. Talking around the food in his mouth, he continued, "Did you know there are dragons?!" He knew it was a stupid question. Of course she knew there were dragons. He just couldn't help himself though.

Gabrielle started giggling again. "Of course there are dragons, silly. How could you not know there are dragons?" she asked incredulously. "When Harry competed in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he had to face a dragon for his first task!"

"WHAT?!?!" Bits of bread spewed from his mouth. Dudley knew his eyes were as big as his plate at this point. "Harry had to battle a _dragon_?!"

Now, instead of being amused, Gabrielle looked thoughtful. Harry Potter was a legend in the magical community. How could Dudley now know these things?! Then she recalled Maman ranting about the Dursleys, and their absolute refusal to accept magic or anyone who practiced it.

"Dudley," she began slowly, "what do you know about Harry's life since he started at Hogwarts?"

"Not much really. I didn't even know magic was real until that giant, hairy bloke came and took Harry to that school. And gave me a pigtail," he added petulantly. "Since then, I've only seen him during summer holidays, and Mum and Dad forbid him to talk about magic or anything like that. I guess he's a really big deal, huh?"

"A _very_ big deal," Gabrielle replied solemnly. "He has faced He Who Must Not Be Named several times and each time, Harry has triumphed," she said with awe in her voice.

"I met Harry almost three years ago when my sister, Fleur, and I traveled to Hogwarts along with our headmistress and several of our classmates. Hogwarts was hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament." At Dudley's blank look, Gabrielle continued to explain, "The Tri-Wizard Tournament is a magical competition. Students from three schools come together and those who wish to compete, submit their name to the Goblet of Fire. The Goblet then selects a champion from each school. Actually, there hadn't been a tournament for quite sometime because people quite often died, so we were all very surprised and excited when it was announced."

"Yeah, I can see how you'd be excited about a competition where people _died_," he muttered sarcastically.

Gabrielle eyed him, but chose not to respond his outburst.

"Fleur was selected as the Beauxbatons champion, Viktor Krum from Durmstrang, and Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. But then a very strange thing happened, and the Goblet also selected Harry as a champion for Hogwarts"

"So what kinds of things did they have to do?" Dudley couldn't believe that Harry had been involved in something like this, and he hadn't heard a thing about it!

"Well for the first task, they each had to face a dragon. Each dragon was guarding a golden egg, and they had to capture the egg from the dragon. The egg held the clue for their next task, but they had to figure out how to decipher the clue. For the second task, the merpeople kidnapped me and some other people and held us in the Black Lake. The champions had to figure out how to stay underwater while they searched for us," Gabrielle's voice rose with her mounting excitement at the retelling. "Fleur was attacked by grindylows before she could find me, but Harry saved me!"

"Wow," Dudley expelled on a breath.

"Oui, wow," Gabrielle agreed. "For the final challenge, the champions were sent into a maze to search for the Tri-Wizard cup. The first person to reach it won. There were many challenges though, including a _sphinx_!"

"A sphinx?" Dudley repeated, questioningly.

"Yes, a sphinx. You know, body of a lion, head of a man," she explained, her exasperation with being interrupted seeping into her voice.

"THOSE ARE REAL?!"

"Well of course they're real!" Gabrielle exclaimed, shocked that he would question that fact.

"And Harry had to face one?!"

"Well, all he had to do was answer a question. The sphinx was the least of his worries, really. You see, a Death Eater had turned the cup into a portkey. Harry and Cedric reached for it at the same time and were transported to a graveyard where He Who Must Not Be Named's minion was waiting for them." She suddenly deflated, "Cedric was killed. They used Harry's blood to restore He Who Must Not Be Named to his body. Harry had to fight his way out."

"Gabrielle." They both jumped at the quiet, yet firm interruption. Dudley turned to see Madame Delacour standing in the doorway.

"Gabrielle," she repeated, "I asked you to bring Dudley his lunch, not to pester him."

"No, Madame Delacour, she wasn't bothering me. Really. I asked her to join me." Which wasn't exactly true; she had invited herself. He'd been happy for the company, though.

"Well, be that as it may, I'm afraid I must steal her away to pack for our trip. Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked, always the gracious hostess.

"Actually, I … I'd like to write a letter. Could I get some paper and a pen?"

"Hmmm … we have no muggle pens here. However, we have quills and ink. I shall have Nici bring you quills, ink and parchment."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." How in the world was he going to write with a quill?

Dudley rose when Gabrielle stood and waited until the ladies had left the room. He then lowered himself back down into his chair. Staring out the window the gardens below, he mulled over everything he'd read and everything Gabrielle had told him.

Harry had faced all this stuff alone. No, not alone. Obviously, there were tons of people willing to help him. But Dudley and his parents were the only family Harry had left, and they had treated him like rubbish.

His guilt overwhelming, Dudley sat unseeing, thinking over all the ways he'd made Harry's life more difficult.

Expelling a deep breath, he rubbed his hands over his face.

"Master?"

"Ack!!" Dudley jumped in his chair. He looked at the little elf standing at the opposite side of the table. "Sorry. I was lost in thought."

"No, Master. Nici is sorry. She did not mean to disturb you," she squeaked. "The Mistress asked me to bring you supplies." She pointed to the table, where the lunch tray had been replaced with quills, an inkwell, and rolls of parchment.

"Thanks, Nici."

"My pleasure, Master," she beamed under his approval. "May I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks. I'm good."

And with that, the she bustled out of the room.

Scooting his chair closer to the table, Dudley unrolled a piece of parchment, uncapped the inkwell, and picked up a quill. Okay. He could do this. You just dip the quill in the ink here and … _cripes_! Ink poured off the quill he had dunked in the inkwell.

Dripping all over the parchment, Dudley looked for something to soak up the excess ink. He set the quill down on the parchment and hurried into the bathroom to grab a towel. So he was going to get ink all over their linens, but surely there was some magic that would get the stain out. Right?

Dudley sopped up the ink, throwing the towel, the ruined quill and the parchment in the waste bin.

He unrolled another piece of parchment, picked up another quill, and carefully dipped just the very tip of the quill in the inkwell.

Satisfied with the result, he started to write, "De…." _Crunch_. The tip snapped off.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Dudley tossed the quill in the bin with the rest. Clearly this was going to take a delicate hand. The only problem was, Dudley didn't possess a delicate bone in his body. And certainly not in his hands which were the size of small dinner plates. Good for bixing, but tough on quills apparently.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Dudley grabbed another quill. He only had two left.

He, again, carefully dipped the tip into the inkwell. Very gently, he pressed the tip to the parchment and started to write, "_Dear Harry…"_


End file.
